


Don't you know, Darling? Promises were made to be Broken.

by ilostmygenderalongwithmydignity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Abused Severus Snape, Abused Sirius Black, Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), BAMF Hermione Granger, Badass Lily Evans Potter, Black Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Has Daddy Issues, Draco Malfoy is trying his best, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, I did Research for This, I wrote lore for this, Indian Harry Potter, Indian James Potter, Indian Potter Family (Harry Potter), Light Angst, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, Magic and Science, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Political Intrigue, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape finds out about Harry's abuse, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Sirius Black Lives, Wizarding Politics, combining magic and science, dewey decimal system, other characters but I can't remember who, this isn't even relevant but FUCK Lucius Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25987150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmygenderalongwithmydignity/pseuds/ilostmygenderalongwithmydignity
Summary: "A small part of him must have known it was inevitable. Maybe that was why, when a memory of his time with the Dursley’s came up during Harry’s Occlumency lessons with Snape, he simply stared back at the man with defiance in his eyes after the spell was canceled."Every moment has the potential to snowball into something that will change the course of history. If you can't see the future, how will you know the change is positive?
Comments: 25
Kudos: 291





	1. Better Terrible Truths than Kind Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This fic isn't finished yet, and the chapters are on the longer side, but I hope to post AT LEAST once a month (it takes a long time to write, sorry!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning
> 
> Chapter title from Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

A small part of him must have known it was inevitable. Maybe that was why, when a memory of his time with the Dursleys came up during Harry’s Occlumency lessons with Snape, he simply stared back at the man. Defiance in his eyes after the spell got canceled. He stood straight and felt his face go blank in the way Slytherins used their so-called 'Pureblood Mask.'

He stood with his arms at his sides, the picture of blank nonchalance.

_ Spine straight, shoulders back. Maintain eye-contact. _

It was unclear why today was the time when the unpleasant memories that Snape seemed drawn to were the ones of his home life. Harry was almost surprised that it had taken this long. Surely a place that made somewhere as dangerous as Hogwarts seem like his only home would have been on the top of the list? Or maybe it was Snape’s preconceptions about Harry’s home life that had kept him away. Doubting that anything there would be unpleasant enough to traumatize Harry a second time just by viewing it.

Whatever the case, it hadn’t stopped the rush of images this time. Every scolding, beating, and punishment being swept before his eyes until all he could do was stand there, breathe evenly, and pretend he was fine.

It was almost funny the way he could only seem to close off his emotions when it was related to something that he didn’t want to talk about, or even acknowledge. 

As he stood there, Snape eyed him, still standing with his wand raised, looking almost as if he expected some form of retaliation. Which was honestly fair, considering Harry’s reactions to Legilimency in the past.

After what seemed like five minutes, but was likely only 30 seconds, Snape cautiously lowered his wand, not taking his eyes off of Harry. His abnormally good posture. His blank face.

Snape inhaled and opened his mouth as if to speak, but then let the breath go on a frown.

Harry still did not move. 

After another moment, Snape flicked his wand toward the corner of the room, and a tea-service with two cups appeared, busying themselves with the making of tea.

Harry blinked, surprised, still showing no outward emotion.

Once the teacups had finished, Snape plucked both of them out of the air. He held one out to Harry. He didn’t take the cup, didn’t move at all, except to raise an eyebrow. 

Snape sighed and finally spoke.

“No, it’s not poisoned.” He sounded tired and uncharacteristically unsarcastic. “I understand that those are not the type of memories that one wishes to discuss under any circumstance, and so I am offering tea.”

Harry shifted, his whole body seeming to thaw from its stationary state. He reached out a cold hand and carefully took the cup before cradling it in both of his hands close to his chest. He gazed into the amber liquid as if it held all of the answers he needed.

Snape took a sip of his tea, still carefully watching Harry. It was only after several minutes, once Harry had sipped his tea, that Snape spoke again. 

“She wasn’t always like that.”

Harry’s head snapped up at the soft, nostalgic tone coming from the bitter potions master.

“When we were eleven, I remember Petunia being  _ fascinated _ by magic. She desperately wanted to be a part of the world that her younger sister had been welcomed into.”

Harry felt both of his eyebrows go up. Snape was talking about his aunt as if he knew her. More than that, as if he had been  _ friends  _ with his  _ mother _ .

“I heard she even owled Dumbledore to ask him if she could come to Hogwarts too.” There was a sad sort of smile on his face, and all Harry could think is that it didn’t look as out of place as it should.

“He, of course, told her no, that it wasn’t possible, and that was that for a while.”

Snape’s expression suddenly darkened, and Harry had the odd experience of having that infamous scowl being directed at a cabinet instead of his person.

“Over time, she became bitter. It didn’t help that Lily–” he seemed to run out of breath for a moment, and Harry realized that the Professor was feeling  _ grief _ about Harry’s  _ mum _ of all people."Lily was brilliant. People remember her now as your mother, as Lily Potter. But when we were in school, Lily Evans was talked about the same way many refer to your friend Miss Granger.” Snape took a sip of his tea, and his lips twitched in amusement, eyes lost in some old memory. 

“I remember the first time Dumbledore called Granger the ‘Brightest Witch of her Age,’ Flitwick practically killed him on the spot. The reason being, that was what everyone called Lily during her time in school.”

Harry swayed a little on his feet, shocked to be hearing so much about the parent that no one seemed to mention apart from the eyes he was told they shared.

Snape caught the slight movement, and a flick of his wand later, there was an armchair directly behind Harry. Unwilling to continue to unpack everything that was currently happening, Harry gratefully collapsed back into it and took another sip of tea.

Snape continued his tale. “I think their parents may have compared the two girls. Whatever the case, by our fourth? Third? I believe it was our Third Year the sisters were barely on speaking terms with one another.”

He gave a one-sided shrug. “It was essentially ex-communication after that.” He finally looked back at Harry.

“All this to say, your aunt has been bitter about magic for a while. I have no idea who in their right mind would not only put you in that house to begin with, but also make you continue to live there once you were a part of this world.”

Harry blinked.

Snape looked at the ground. “I also recognize that I have seen your father in your place and have not given you the opportunity to prove who you truly are to me.” He looked up, and onyx met emerald. “I also realize that this is a lot to take in.”

Harry nodded. 

Snape frowned. “Who  _ did _ decide where you live?”

Well, that was an easy question to answer. “Dumbledore.” Harry finally managed to speak. 

Snape’s expression darkened. “And I assume he has some reason you must stay there?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice. 

Harry shrugged. “He says my mother created some kind of protection when she died for me. He also kept repeating something about blood wards around the house, and it’s not like they would be anywhere else they are my only living relatives.”

Snape suddenly became very calm. “Would you have a problem with me leaving for a couple of minutes? I find myself with the sudden urge to light a colleague on fire.”

“If you’re already lighting people on fire, could you add Umbrage to the list?” The words are out of his mouth before he could think better of it. To his surprise, Snape merely chuckled and agreed. 

“Well, something is bound to happen that parents catch wind of that will get rid of her.” Harry added thoughtfully, “and if not, well, I’m honestly starting to believe in the so-called curse on the position.”

Snape frowned. “What do you mean ‘catch wind of’?”

Harry opened his mouth to say something about his detention but found he couldn't talk about it.  _ Damn secrecy spell. _ He frowned and tried again.

< She made me write with a quill that used my own blood as ink. > Harry blinked at his sudden ability to talk about the incident. 

“As you suddenly switched languages, I’m assuming there’s some sort of secrecy spell on you.” Snape seemed bothered, and Harry wasn’t sure if it was because of the secrecy spell or his accidental switch to Parseltongue. 

< Fuck. >

“Is there a way you could demonstrate or show me what it is you’re talking about?”

Harry wordlessly raised his right hand, the back facing Snape.

“That is… “ he trailed off as he studied the raised and red words on the back of Harry's hand.

When he spoke again, he was using the same deadly calm tone as when he mentioned setting the Headmaster alight. “Did she make you use a blood quill?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What’s a blood quill?”

“A highly illegal Dark Artifact which uses the writer’s blood as ink.”

“Ah. Then yes. Wait, illegal?”

“Very.”

“Wait, if it’s that Dark, how did it get past the wards? Like I get that Dark Creatures end up in here regularly, but surely they would at least have alerted Dumbledore.”

“While I have concerns about your confidence in the regularity of Dark creatures ending up in the castle, my main question is how you know that much about wards. It does not seem like something you would seek knowledge about, and I know there are no classes about them at your year level.”

“Hermione,” Harry explained. “She was talking about the Hogwarts wards earlier today. She was saying that for most wizarding homes, the wards are keyed to the head of the family. Or in the case of a couple living alone, sometimes both of them. At Hogwarts, the wards were created by the Founders, and they managed to alter them in a way where they will automatically key themselves to the current Headmaster or Headmistress.”

“I must confess that I am unsurprised she knows that.”

“She’s read  _ Hogwarts, A History _ more times than I’ve nearly died at Hogwarts.”

“That is… a concerning comparison.”

“Fred and George created a self-updating sheet that they put up in the Common Room with a permanent sticking charm.”

“That is very... Gryffindor of them.”

Harry snorted, “you say that like those two didn’t almost end up in Slytherin.”

A look of what could only be described as fear crossed Snape’s face before it quickly vanished. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

A sharp grin suddenly appeared on the Gryffindor’s face. “They aren’t the only Gryffindors who the Hat said would do well in your house. None of them would ever admit it, of course, but that doesn’t mean the Hat forgot.”

“You make the Sorting Hat sound like the boogeyman.”

“I mean… “ Harry had several memories of the Hat flash through his mind. “As someone who immediately argued with the Hat, I think I have reason to fear it.”

His eyes suddenly open very wide. “Oh my god, what if all the students got re-Sorted every year. Like the Seventh Years would get to the feast first, get Sorted, and then sit, and then the Sixth Years, and so on.”

His face filled with horror, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “What if one year you argued with the Hat, and the next year it  _ purposefully separated you from all of your friends? _ ”

Snape interrupted before Harry's eyes could get any more glazed with horror than they already were.

“While an intriguing concept, I do not believe you have anything of that sort to fear right now.”

Snape seemed almost amused at the concept. “However, if he got wind of it, I would not put it past Dumbledore to institute that idea.”

“Never mention this ever again, got it.”

Harry visibly hesitated before saying his next words. “When you were speaking earlier…" he paused.

“Did you know my mum?” He hated how vulnerable he sounded. 

“She was my best friend for years.”

“I… what?” Harry's head snapped up to look at the dour Professor, only to quickly look back down.

“Unfortunately, I made a couple of terrible decisions, and she fully cut me off when we were in the Fifth Year.”

“… do I want to ask?” Harry looked up cautiously from his teacup, still clutched a little too tightly in his hands. 

Snape sighed. “I was, and remain, a fool. I said something I deeply regret. I called her the M-word. And when she did what any sane person in that position would do, and cut me off, I just went Darker.”

He looked Harry in the eye. “I got the Mark. Now I’m stuck with it. I’m a spy for two men who see themselves as the players and the rest of us as chess pieces. I still blame myself for Lily’s death.”

His lips flattened into a thin line.

“It truly was my fault.”

Another deep sigh. Another flick of his wand to summon an armchair.

“Dumbledore does not want you knowing this because he believes your ignorance will protect you. Personally, I lean towards the more Ravenclaw belief that knowledge is power.”

He sat down. 

Harry sat up straighter and tucked one of his legs onto the cushion of his armchair, hands relaxing to cup his tea instead of strangling it. It was rare that an adult was this transparent with him.

“None of this is fair, and part of me hopes it won’t come to pass, but…"

Snape refilled his teacup and drank half of it before continuing.

“There’s a prophecy about you and the Dark Lord. Trelawney gave it in Dumbledore’s presence. I overheard part of it. It says that one of you must die by the hand of the other. The Dark Lord assumed it was about you because it said 'the one to defeat him,'" he used one hand to sketch air-quotes, something that Harry realized he had never seen a wizard do in casual conversation before.

"Would be born at the end of July. It could easily have been Mr. Longbottom. That was when I opened my eyes, to be frank. Yes, I was bitter that she cut me off, but I wasn’t about to do nothing when someone told me they were going to kill my best friend.”

Silence pervaded the room. 

After a minute, Harry broke it.

“Do prophecies always come true?” His voice was almost a whisper. 

“Very rarely, that I know of.”

There was a comforting note to his tone. Harry wasn't sure if he was willing to be comforted by it yet.

“Many prophecies are self-fulfilling. Part of this one says that he will mark someone as his equal, so if he had chosen to, say, throw you out of the window, the way most people would attempt to kill a baby,” Harry snorted, “instead of giving you that scar, he probably wouldn’t have kick-started the thing in the first place.”

“That’s probably the only reason Trelawney still has her job.”

“I find myself unwilling to argue that point.” Snape eyed him before continuing.

“I have a question for  _ you _ now.” 

Harry tensed. 

“What was your comment about dark creatures in the school about?”

Harry relaxed and answered easily, ticking the years off on his fingers.

“First Year, that Cerberus that Hagrid thought was a good idea to name Fluffy, also a dragon named Norbert. Well, Norberta now. Second Year, the basilisk that was petrifying people,” he wrinkled his nose. “But technically Salazar Slytherin put that in here so I’m not sure that counts.”

He continued, “Third Year, Lupin brought in a lot of creatures for practical lessons  _ and  _ he's a werewolf, but I’m pretty sure all of that was approved by Dumbledore. Fourth Year was the tournament, and Professor Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr., but there was so much going on then that who even knows what else was happening. This year," he paused to think for a second. "Well I haven’t encountered any dark creatures yet, but I’ve learned to not get optimistic about these things.”

“A dragon named Norbert. That is now Norberta.”

Harry grinned. “Malfoy was actually right about the whole dragon thing. Hagrid hatched it in his hut, and we had to convince him keeping a dragon in a wooden building was a bad idea. When Malfoy caught us, we had just handed the dragon off to a couple of Charlie’s friends who were on their way to the dragon reserve he works at. Charlie Weasley, Ron’s brother.” He added after a second, realizing that the clarification was needed. 

“And that was when you got detention and saw the Dark Lord drinking unicorn blood.”

“Well, when you put it like that..."

“How else would you put it?”

“Oh, I’m not saying it didn’t happen, it very much happened, and it was very much horrible, but I guess I didn’t realize how… action-packed my school days have been.” 

“Indeed. What has Dumbledore said about the blood wards around your relatives' house?”

Harry blinked at the sudden change in subject and the fact that, like Harry, Snape had said  _ relatives _ and not  _ family _ .

“That they are a result of my mother trying to protect me before she was murdered. That they keep me hidden from Voldemort. That's about it.”

“Has he, or anyone else, ever told you about the various types of wards and protections?”

“No, but that honestly isn’t a shock at this point.”

“That isn’t a good thing.”

It was unclear if Snape was referring to Harry’s ignorance or his lack of surprise about it.

“There are many types of wards, and blood wards are only truly effective if there is a strong emotional bond among those under its protection.”

“So you’re saying that Dumbledore has been unnecessarily forcing me to go back to that house every summer, even though every year I ask him if I can stay with literally anyone else.”

Snape blinked. “That is correct.”

Harry sighed. “How many types of wards are there, roughly?”

“Hundreds.”

“Great." He sighed, "you know this is where I ask Hermione to help me.”

He flopped back in the armchair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 

Snape's voice was hesitant when he next spoke as if afraid to give false hope.

“There is also a possibility… a low one, that your mother was the one to give you that scar. Not the Dark Lord.”

Harry blinked and sat back up. 

“People say it’s in the shape of a lightning bolt,” he continued, running a finger around the rim of his teacup and looking into the fire.

“However, it is also the same as  _ sōwilō _ , the sun rune, for victory, guidance, and more relevantly, protection.”

“You think there’s a possibility that my mother used an ancient rune to protect me and that’s why the Killing Curse backfired?”

Harry was in shock. He was going to have to ask Hermione everything she knew about this rune as soon as possible. 

“It’s small, but knowing Lily, I would not discount the possibility.”

“Can you… “

Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry didn’t see it, however, because he was staring intently into his tea. 

“What was she like?” When he spoke, his voice was soft and quiet, as if afraid something would break if he articulated otherwise. 

“Brave, kind, brilliant, and way too stubborn for anyone to tell her what to do. Some said too stubborn for her own good. She was fierce, loyal, and not afraid to be herself. She held herself and those around her to seemingly ridiculous standards. However, she also knew what people’s capabilities and limits were and would adjust accordingly. She always wore her hair in a high ponytail, and her hands were always ink-stained. She hit James Potter over the head with a book of charms that was, and I quote, ‘bigger than his ego,’ the first time he asked her out in the Second Year.”

His eyes got wistful. “People were talking about it for months. I’m pretty sure that moment is why there is now technology that lets you turn memories into photographs.”

Harry’s brain whirred with all of the new information about his parents. “She hit him with a book?”

“Oh yes, he asked her out pretty much once a month for years until he figured out how to not be a stalker and let her do her own thing. They regularly got into arguments that would lose Gryffindor almost as many points as the various trouble your father and his friends did. It wasn’t until halfway through our Sixth Year that they went on their first date.”

“No one ever told me,” Harry mumbled. 

Snape frowned at that. He casts a quick  _ Tempus _ , before replying.

“Our lesson is officially at an end.”

He summoned a scrap of parchment and a quill from his nearby desk. The quill started writing a list while he continued to speak. “I am giving you this list of books on Occlumency, Legilimency, and Wards to browse in your free time. Underlined books are the most important. If necessary, give Granger the list, and have her summarize their content for you.”

He paused. “I will try and do something about Umbrage, but I’m not sure I can. Unfortunately, the fastest way to improve your living situation is to acquit Black and that will take…" he trailed off.

Harry just sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“I will do what I can.”

Snape got a half-smile in return.

“Thank you.”

~•~

As he walked back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry read over the list that Snape had given him. There were only three books underlined on said list, one from each subject. When he looked at the bottom of the parchment, he saw a note. 

“ _ This paper is charmed so that once you cross off the titles that you have read, it will self-update and pick either new books on the list or give you different underlined options." _

“Huh.” Harry walked directly into the bottom step of the stairs leading out of the dungeons, making a scuffing thump that echoed off the walls.

“Fun times,” he muttered sarcastically. He heard a snort from down a side corridor and immediately started up the steps lest the unknown (probably Slytherin) student realized whom they were laughing in response to. He got halfway up the stairs before his scarf slipped off and somehow managed to fall most of the way back down the stairs.

“Really?” he muttered. He turned around, all ready to retrieve the offending garment when the Probably Slytherin Student came around the corner. Not only was the student  _ Definitely _ Slytherin, but it was none other than Draco Malfoy. Harry groaned as Malfoy caught sight of him.

Before Malfoy had a chance to say anything rude, and therefore tempt Harry into hexing him, he cut him off.

“Look, I’m just trying to get back to Gryffindor Tower and pass out, but my scarf hates me, so if we could avoid the whole argument thing, that would be fantastic.”

“Why are you even in the dungeons to begin with?” Malfoy challenged.

“Oh, for- I had detention with Snape. He gave me a reading list,” here Harry waved the parchment in the air. “And now I wish to pass out before anything else goes wrong. Otherwise, I may just walk right up to Voldemort and tell him to finish what he attempted to start. Twice.” He felt his eyes flicker with something undefinable on the last word.

Malfoy’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything else, so Harry picked up his traitorous scarf, turned around, and continued on his merry way. 

~•~

Once he finally got back to Gryffindor Tower – thankfully without any more interruptions – Harry immediately went to the nearest couch and face-planted along its length. The parchment still clutched tightly in his left hand, right arm folded under his body.

He let out a deep sigh, muffled by the couch, and heard some unknown younger-year say “go get Ron and Hermione,” before the sound of quick footsteps scampered off.  _ That’s reasonable. _

Harry realized that very soon, panic that he had opted to ignore in favor of numbness and confusion was going to set in. He hoped Ron and Hermione would show up before then.

Just as he was worried his friends wouldn’t show up on time, he heard a “Harry? Are you alright?” from somewhere to his left. Hermione.  _ Thank Merlin _ . He let out another groan in response, no longer having the energy to lift himself into a sitting position.

“You alright mate?”

Harry shrugged. He heard Hermione put up a  _ Muffliato _ .

“Did something happen with Snape?”

He almost started laughing at the worried tone she used.  _ ‘Did something happen’ indeed _ . 

He let out another groan, and rolled onto his back, left arm now squished uncomfortably against the rear of the couch.

“I mean something always happens with Snape, technically.” He said to the ceiling. 

Hermione let out an irritated huff. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I do. And no, not exactly. He acknowledged that he has been treating me as if I was my father, and he gave me tea. So, yes, something happened. Oh!"

He held up the parchment that was being crinkled in his left fist.

“He also gave me a reading list, mentioned setting two members of the faculty on fire, and told me more about my mum than I’ve ever heard from anyone else.”

Silence greeted his tired but energetic little speech.

“You sure that was him, mate?”

Ah, Ron. Always one to remind one of reality.

Harry snorted. “Yeah, it was him. I mentioned The List,” here he gestured to the parchment that Fred and George had tacked up on the wall, “and his response was ‘how… Gryffindor of them.’” Harry imitated the Professor with startling accuracy. 

Hermione, who had been trying to process and analyze everything that Harry had said during this time, interrupted amid Ron’s laughter.

“I’m guessing whatever prompted this change has something to do with your parents?”

Harry’s face made a complicated expression.

“Well…" he hedged. “Something like that.”He stayed lying on his back, but Hermione could see the tension in his body had pressed him further into the couch. She frowned. There was only one thing that made Harry tense up like this around her and Ron, and it was–

_ Oh no _ .

“He saw your summers.” It wasn’t a question.

Harry’s flattened lips and averted gaze, however, were more than enough of an answer. 

“What?” Ron somehow hadn’t caught on. He was a brilliant chess master. However, when it came to people and their emotions, he could be almost impressively ignorant.

Hermione forged ahead, knowing that Harry was, in his own way, giving her permission to continue asking yes or no questions. It was up to her to read the answers from his body language. This was, after all, the way he had opened up to her about the Dursleys, to begin with.

They didn’t talk to Ron about it, but at the end of First Year, she had found him on the verge of a panic attack at the prospect of going back. Since then, they had talked about ways to make it easier for him but had yet to find any real solutions. It was why they were so close— something that Ron sometimes seemed to be jealous of.

“Did he see anything specific?”

A slump. That meant he was ready to talk. Sure enough, he lolled his head toward her, and anguished eyes met her own. “He saw everything, ‘Mione. All of it. It was like a speedrun of all the greatest hits of my childhood, and then some. The only thing missing was the snake incident. There was only the consequence part and the letters.”

“Oh, Harry.” She dropped down to her knees and pulled him into a hug, holding him tighter than necessary. They both knew it was because she wished she could have protected him from that particular horror.

His arms slowly came around her, and that was when she felt him shaking.

She pulled away, and without looking up, said “Ron, can you get a calming draught from Madam Pomfrey? Tell her I said it’s a Code Scorpion. She’ll understand what I mean,” hands still resting on Harry’s shoulders. 

“But-"

“Ron. Now.”

He huffed out a “fine,” and left the Common Room to the sound of Harry muttering “it’s more of a Code Lobster, ‘Mione, I’m fine, really.”

After Ron left, Hermione got a soft “thank you.”

Hermione knew Harry wasn’t comfortable talking about his home life with Ron. He only felt comfortable talking about it with  _ her _ because of the bullying she had also endured at the Muggle school that she had gone to. Both of them had dealt with racism before Hogwarts. It was part of the reason why both of them were so bothered by the obsession over blood status, even if only Hermione was actively harassed about it.

Although Harry’s blood was Indian and Hermione’s African, they both knew a similar impact of Britain’s colonization of what they viewed as 'lesser' countries.

Not only was Ron white, but he also had grown up in a large and loving family. Neither of them was used to having many friends, so they had an odd solidarity that many people, especially those from wizard families, didn’t understand.

She sat with him on the couch now, curled up against her side, one hand running through his hair. She was pleased to have introduced the concept of conditioner to him back in Second Year, as it was deceptively soft now but still messy as ever. 

“Do you want to speak, or for me to ask questions?” She murmured once she felt him relax a fraction and nuzzle into her warmth. He got cold easily, so he was always a little cuddly after having been in the dungeons. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he admitted softly. 

“How about we start by either moving closer to the fire or getting you a sweater?”

He grinned. It was the type of comment he responded to with “yes, mum” around Ron, but with just them, it was okay for him to acknowledge how much it meant for someone to care about him like that.

“Just cast a warming charm ‘Mione.”

She rolled her eyes but did as requested. 

“He knew my mum.” Hermione was almost surprised that Harry was capable of sounding that vulnerable. “They were best friends, ‘Mione, and  _ no one ever told me _ .”

She waited for him to continue, pained by the rawness in his voice. 

“Apparently, when he first asked her out, she hit my dad over the head with a book.”

There was a smile in his voice. She knew that it was because these little tales, these snapshots in time, are what was most important to Harry. Not the grand things. The everyday stuff.

Hermione chuckled. “So that’s where you get your stubbornness from," she teased. 

“Apparently it is!” He was genuinely animated, and it had warmed her heart.

“He said that she was known for being stubborn. He also offered to light Dumbledore on fire for not properly educating me about Wards.”

“Did you tell him I know a good spell for that?”

Harry snorted and shoved her shoulder. “No, smartass, otherwise he would have figured out who lit him on fire First Year. He said that blood wards are only effective when those protected by them have a strong emotional bond.”

“Can you tell him I’ll help him set Dumbledore on fire?”

“Sure. Umbrage is also on the list, by request. Also,” he held up his hand, the raised red marks still slightly raw.

“Apparently, the thing she made me use is called a Blood Quill. It’s illegal and Dark.”

Hermione had pulled out a piece of parchment by now and was taking notes, a habit she often took up to figure out what to research next. These notes, however, were more of a to-do list. 

“Also, wards bring me to the reading list.” He held out his hand, and she massaged the cold fingers open to take the list.

“It’s titles on Occlumency, Legilimency, and wards. Underlined most important. Read bottom note.” His speech was getting clipped, with shorter sentences, and she knew that he was running out of steam.

She read the note on the bottom, then added a point to her list about looking into the charm mentioned. Under that, she put another note to schedule a meeting with Professor Snape for herself. There were things about Harry that few people knew, and she wanted to make sure Snape didn’t endanger her friend in any way. Harry’s secrets were few, but they were important to him.

_ Speaking of _ , she made a note to look into libel laws. Another, about lawyers. 

“Do you want to hold onto this list, or do you want me to keep it for you?” She kept her voice soft, knowing his exhaustion was only amplified by loud speech and noises. 

She felt him shrug against her, eyes closed and all but asleep on her shoulder.

“I’ll keep it for now, and then I’ll ask you again tomorrow, okay?”

She waited until he let out a sleepy “mm-hmm,” before continuing.

“I think Ron will be back soon, and then I’m making sure you get to bed.”

Few people would recognize the last part as a threat even fully awake. Harry was one of the even fewer, who recognized it in his current state, half asleep. He let out a grumpy sound in response and shoved his face further into her shoulder to fight off consciousness, glasses all but cracking under the pressure.

Hermione gave an affectionate roll of her eyes before abruptly standing up, causing him to fall face-first into the couch. He whined into the couch cushions before blearily glaring up at her, his glasses falling off of his face.

“I stand by the theory of your animagus form being a black kitten.”

“I resent that,” he grumbled. 

“McGonagall might try to adopt you.”

“I  _ will _ hate crime you,” Harry responded to Hermione, just as Ron appeared, walking back into the bubble of her  _ Muffliato _ .

He raised his eyebrows. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah,” Hermione said. “I just told him that his animagus form is probably a tiny black kitten. Also, that a certain cat animagus that we know might try to adopt him.”

Ron looked like he very much did not want to even  _ begin  _ unpacking that, and instead reached out his hand and gave Harry the box he was holding.

“Pomphrey gave this to me with the instructions that it’s keyed to your magical signature so only you can open it, to visit her tomorrow at some point, and also that I tell you to ‘not downplay hardships or validity.’” He quoted in a poor imitation of the matron's voice.

“Thanks,” Harry clutched the box like it was a lifeline. 

“Okay,” Hermione made a shooing motion with her hands.

“Up you get, you need rest.”

Harry didn’t argue and let her herd him up to bed without complaint. 

Ron had felt a certain amount of jealousy about Harry and Hermione’s relationship. Looking at them now, however, he realized that they reminded him of the way his mother would fuss over him and his siblings.

He wasn’t completely clueless. Hermione hadn’t been all that surprised at the beginning of their Second Year when he told her about the bars on Harry’s windows.

In all honesty, she had been angrier than anything else. But she hadn’t treated Harry any differently, even when the twins had been kinder to Harry and, hell, even  _ Ron himself _ had tiptoed around the subject. Watching her herd him up to their dorm, force him to brush his teeth even through all of the sleepy grumbling, and change into pajamas, made Rom realize that Harry  _ needed _ someone like that. He  _ needed  _ someone to take care of him in all the mundane ways that Hermione did to both of them. Ron himself saw it as nagging, but for Harry? It was proof that someone cared. He watched Harry pull out a Dreamless Sleep potion from the box and down it immediately before handing said box and his glasses to Hermione. It made Ron realize that he needed to be there for him too. There were things that Harry only felt comfortable talking to Hermione about, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be supportive in his own way. 

~•~

Ron’s thoughtful expression had made Hermione slightly nervous. As she gently set the box and Harry’s glasses on his bedside table, she heard a soft, “I hadn’t even noticed.”

She turned around cautiously. “Noticed what?”

She kept her voice low, even though she knew the potion would keep Harry under for as long as he needed to sleep. She was glad tomorrow was Saturday. He needed the rest. 

“How much he needs it.” Ron was frowning. “How much you’re there for him. And how much he needs that. For there to be someone to look after him.”

He looked up at her, and there was anguish in his eyes. “I haven’t been doing nearly enough.”

Hermione smiled and sat down on the edge of Ron’s bed, hands propped on either side to balance her. “It’s not a surprise that you never noticed.”

He seemed a little affronted, so she continued, counting off on her fingers to make a point, feet pushing into the carpet to take the weight that her hands had held.

“Both of us didn’t know magic was real, we went to a Muggle school, we both experienced bullying and racism at said schools. We both have had fears of not being good enough to stay in this world that provided us with friends, and neither of us really  _ had  _ friends growing up until Hogwarts.” She paused, and when she looked at Ron, he felt as though she was looking into his soul. This time when she counted off on her fingers, it hurt even more somehow, even though it really shouldn’t.

“You grew up in a large family. You have supportive siblings and plenty of role models. You’ve never known a world without magic. Never even had to contemplate it. Even if you  _ had _ grown up in a place where racism was relevant to you, you’re the second whitest person I know. You’ve never been told that the circumstances of your birth are going to dictate your life or your career. Harry and I both have that on two counts, maybe even three. You’ve never  _ had _ to question these things because no one has ever told you about them or shown them to you before.”

She punctuated her words with a shrug. “And honestly, the saying that only privileged people can afford to not care about politics is true. You don’t  _ have  _ to care about it because the government won’t try to imprison or kill you just for being. Which, for you, is a good thing. But for the rest of us, we don’t always feel safe talking about it with people who aren’t affected by it. Even though Harry and I know we can trust you,” another shrug.

“There’s always that fear.” She gave him a sad smile, and all Ron can do is stand there because  _ he had no idea, _ and she was still saying that  _ it wasn’t his fault,  _ but all he could think was that  _ he should’ve known _ and that  _ he should have done something _ .

She seemed to clock his reaction and gave a tired sigh. “I’ll talk to you about the important points tomorrow, but it’s late now and we need sleep. Just know that if you were being actively problematic about anything, you would not still be around. You’re honestly shockingly supportive for your profile.”

And with that, she was gone. Leaving behind only a reminder of her presence in the form of Harry’s folded uniform and Ron’s books being piled carefully in a neat stack on his desk without his notice.

  
  



	2. Flying Towards an Early Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished chapter two! Also, I made some edits to chapter one to fix some minor stuff like formatting, but I also added in/changed some stuff so it would probably be best to reread it.
> 
> Much love, enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title from the song Icarus by Bastille

“ _ Why _ did you tell him to tell her Scorpion, ‘Mione? She’s never gonna let me leave, and it was more of a Lobster, you  _ know _ that.”

Harry hadn’t stopped complaining the entire time they were walking from breakfast in the Great Hall to the Hospital Wing. While glad that he was well-rested, Hermione was getting a little sick of this theme.

Ron had heard one sentence about crustaceans and immediately decided to go back up to the Tower after staying for a more lengthy and lavish breakfast.

Now, Hermione was walking down corridors with a Harry so frustrated that he hadn’t even noticed Malfoy sneering at them, which was honestly impressive. It had resulted in the surreal moment of Malfoy and Hermione sharing a moment of surprised eye-contact as if to say, "are you seeing this too?" Before they both realized who the other person was and went back to walking down the hallway.

Meanwhile, Harry was saying that just because he appreciated having Dreamless Sleep the previous night, it wasn’t worth having Pomfrey summon him to the Hospital Wing. By the time they reached said Hospital Wing, Hermione was seriously considering doing something to Harry that would likely result in him being kept there. 

~•~

After much complaining and insisting that he was fine, Harry was finally left with a Saturday free of imminent responsibility.

After getting Harry to check out the three underlined books on his reading list, Hermione had disappeared into the labyrinthine shelves to find the rest of the books on the list. Ron was catching up on homework in the Common Room. Harry grabbed the books, his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook from Third Year, a pencil case, and a couple of notebooks that he had purchased recently out of his trunk and put them in his bag. Harry then headed outside to sit by the lake.

When he got out into the grounds, Harry took a moment and closed his eyes, chin tilting up a few degrees to feel the breeze. A small smile relaxed across his face, shoulders lowering to an untroubled posture, spine straightening in a subtle stretch.

He blinked open his eyes and walked to a tree with bows reaching in a protective arc, shading an area around the base from the sun.

It was here that he sat, robe off and under him like a picnic blanket, back leaning into the trunk, legs stretched out and crossed in front of him. His head was bowed over a book, and his right hand periodically scribbled notes in the notebook laid open beside him.

It was here that Draco Malfoy ran across him, walking to the Quidditch Pitch.

It was almost funny to Draco that for the second time in one day, Potter was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t even clock Draco's presence. If he hadn’t wanted him to know he was there, he supposed, he might’ve been more entertained by the fact.

After realizing walking toward him was doing absolutely zilch, Draco stopped four feet away and spoke. “I was unaware you studied.”

Not the most creative thing, but he was too interested in his experiment for much more. 

Potter flinched violently, head snapping up toward Draco, glasses falling onto his book, and dropping the thing he had been using to write ( _ what is that, anyway? _ ).

“Jesus fuck, Malfoy.” His eyes were wild as he picked up his glasses to resettle them on his face. “Make some sound before speaking, would you?”

Draco merely raised an eyebrow before pointedly looking at the crisp fallen leaves that he had walked through to get that close.

“Oh.” Potter seemed to take a minute to process, for he frowned before speaking.

“Anyway, this isn’t for a class.” He looked down at the book spread open across his lap. “It’s extracurricular. For… various reasons.”

He got a glint in his eye that Draco had never seen before. “This one is to help me sue someone.” He tilted his head to the side and looked up from the book in the general direction of the lake. “Or I guess to get them arrested, depending.”

His eyes suddenly got big, and he scrambled for writing utensils, muttering the whole time. Draco didn’t catch much other than “Gringotts,” “Bill,” “goblins,” and “wards.”

“Why are you trying to sue someone?” He couldn’t mask his bewildered tone. 

“Many reasons,” Potter seemed to have forgotten whom he was talking to, so absorbed he was in writing what looked like a list on a weird sheaf of lined parchment. “I mean, first of all, the complete and utter lack of libel laws. Honestly, it’s shocking Hermione only just now decided to get me a lawyer and have them look into that. There’s also the poor handling of apparently everything in the justice system. I’ve met a legally dead man, and instead of being the victim everyone says he is, crap.” Potter wiped some excess ink from his finger onto the corner of the page. “He tried to kill me. I mean, it technically wasn’t the first time he did that. I’ve met a criminal who never got a trial; had he received one he would have been proven innocent. Well,” he looked up over the lake, an amused smile on his face.

“Innocent of that particular crime. I’ve heard tell that he used to steal street signs.” He looked back up at Draco. “But that’s a little milder than murder, so,” he shrugged.

“That’s three court cases. You aren’t going to find all that in one book.”

Draco was reeling.  _ Since when did Potter know or care about legal cases? _

“Oh, no. This is for a different case. This book is about types of wards. I think it’s only about protective wards, but” he made a face that conveyed how overwhelming it was.

“Anyway, it’s still only three cases, ‘cause the asshole who tried to kill me is the person the one sentenced without a trial is supposed to have killed.”

He wrinkled his nose, “also the explanation involves illegal activity, so I’m not sure how that will work out. And that isn’t even counting the negligence case, which is the same person as the ward case and sort of overlaps, and then there’s the mostly unrelated Dark Artifact case that was enabled by the negligence case. Then related to the ward case is a case that I need to ask Gringotts about, so I need to talk to their top curse breaker because he’s cool, and I’m pretty sure he can help me with the goblins. And that case is related to both the murder case  _ and  _ the negligence case. They’re all related to a child abuse case as well. So overall,” Potter made direct eye contact with Draco, and he was more solemn than he had ever seen him before.

“I have a lot of non-school studying that I’m doing. And that’s just a quarter of what I set out to do.”

“There’s more?” Draco asked incredulously.

Potter held up each book in turn, saying the subject in a tired voice.

“Occlumency. Legilimency, obviously related. Defense. Unrelated but easiest. And as I mentioned," he tilted up the book on his lap before letting it fall again. “Wards.”

“Why are you studying Occlumency?”

“Oh, I wonder why the most hunted fifteen-year-old wants to keep out people who want to read his mind. It’s almost as if he nearly got into a fistfight with the current maniac calling themselves a dark lord three times, not counting when he was a baby.” His tone was positively dripping with sarcasm. 

Draco had to admit he had a point. “Well, if the Wards are for a court case, which honestly doesn’t seem like something you would be involved in, what’s Defense for?”

All he got was a laugh in response. 

“You said it was extracurricular,” Draco prompted. 

“Oh, it is. But then again, any practical work would have to be. I had to go back to our Third Year textbook to find anything of use. It’s dense, which makes me understand why Remus mostly did practical lessons with lectures mixed in, but there are some useful spells in here.” He had a sudden burst of frustration. “But I still can’t find Hermione’s fire spell! It's not in any Charms books I've read either! I’m starting to think she came up with it herself, which I wouldn’t put past her, but by November in First Year? Really?”

He refocused. “Anyway, Theory is important to learn, but it only really means anything if taught in conjunction with practical work.”

Another head tilt. “You can understand the theory behind a Patronus Charm, but it won’t help you at all if you’ve never tried to cast one and you’re surrounded by Dementors.”

"Granger has her own fire spell?"

It was, in all honesty, not the thing to be focusing on. 

“I mean, we all have a signature. For Hermione, it’s the blue fire. For me, it’s probably my corporeal Patronus or the fact that I'm good at defense. For Ron, it’s a little more abstract. He’s a brilliant chess master. He’s beaten everyone in Gryffindor who went against him. It makes him a great strategist. Sometimes it means he doesn’t recognize people’s emotions, but his strategy is honestly more watertight than that of Dumbledore.”

Draco was a little afraid to ask the question, but he couldn't deny that he was curious. “Do I have a recognizable signature?”

Potter smiled, head rolling along the tree bark so that their eyes met. “I don’t know you well enough to say. Maybe you have a certain spell you’re excellent at. Maybe it’s a hobby that rivals everything else. For example, Neville is a Herbology God. For Ginny, Ron’s sister, it’s her Bat-Bogey Hex. I would say you can detect what someone’s insecurities are and hit them where it hurts, but you’re kind of a racist prick, and I think it has more to do with that than anything else.”

Before Draco had time to react, Potter's smile had stretched into a grin, and he said, "I'm just kidding, you're good at Potions. That counts as a signature."

"Very funny, Potter." He said stiffly. He should've known that a normal conversation with the prat was too much to hope for.

He snorted. "What, can't take a joke Malfoy? Or is it the fact that I'm right that bothers you? I know you had nothing to do with the Second year nonsense, but your father certainly did."

Potter's green eyes seemed to change to an even deeper emerald than typical, and there was a seriousness in his face that made Draco unwilling to doubt him. He shifted from foot to foot in the fallen leaves and swallowed. "What do you mean Potter?"

A sad smile. "I guess he never told you about the diary. It had Voldemort's-" Draco felt himself flinch. "-soul in it."

Potter wrinkled his nose. "Well, at least part of it. Or a memory of it. It's kind of gross to think about. That's how he possessed Ginny."

A flash of a grin. "People say that's why she's so terrifying."

He shook his head, an amused curve to his lips.

"Anyway, Hermione will kill me if I don't make any progress. I gotta finish a couple more chapters of this, then I can start on the fun bit." He frowned. "I also need to ask Ron about Bill."

The last sentence was said in a very distracted manner. Draco blinked, trying to piece everything Potter had told him together.

And then it clicked, and he took a sharp breath in.

"You want to exonerate Sirius Black." He was well aware he was staring beyond the tree, at the castle wall, but it was like fitting the last puzzle piece and seeing the complete image for the first time. He was riveted.

"What, I-"

"The dead man is Peter Pettigrew. He must have been the actual traitor to your family. That makes so much more sense. Blacks don't turn on who they see as their family, and I doubt the death of his brother would convince him to work for the Dark Lord. That must also be how you got the Firebolt in Third Year. He never got a trial, so the goblins still see him as head of the family. Only Sirius can access the family gold. If he could get in and out undetected, he would be safe in the neutral ground of the bank."

"Would you believe me if I denied everything you just said?"

"No."

"Okay, cool, if he didn't already try to kill me once, I'd ask if your dad is a lawyer and if he could help."

Draco furrowed his brow.

"It's cuz I tricked him into freeing your House Elf. He tried to curse me."

Draco's eyebrows shot up and his mouth formed an "oh," in realization.

"Yeah, Dobby."

Draco frowned. "You do realize your life is rather insane, correct?"

Potter snorted. "Yeah, figured that out myself, thanks." He paused and narrowed his eyes. "You know, the only person I've ever seen figure something out that fast is Hermione."

His face lit up suddenly. "Wait, hold that thought. You take Ancient Runes, right? What can you tell me about the sun rune? I forgot to ask her, and she's somewhere very deep in the library and is probably working her way through the entire reading list Snape gave me yesterday, and I don't want to die."

"Since when do you care about runes?" Draco was having trouble keeping up with the conversation. Derailing the conversation probably wasn't going to help much, but he would do what he could to slow it down while he processed.

What he wasn't expecting was Potter to get very uncomfortable with the questioning and immediately shut down. He could almost see his face shutter and lock down to hide any and all emotion.

It was the opposite reaction Draco was used to getting in response to his barbs and insults.

"Do you know the answer?"

Draco gave him a deadpan look, and in a matching voice, recited, "sowelo, also known as the sun rune, is connected to the lightning bolt, summer, and the concept of a flash of inspiration. It is feminine, like the sun in Norse mythology. It symbolizes life-giving warmth, understanding, education, resistance to death and disintegration, light winning over darkness, confidence, victory and success, energy, strength, and destruction, among other things. Another important point in reference to sowelo is enlightenment and success through individual will."

His gaze lifted to Potter's forehead, eyes running along the shape of the Rune. The reaction made more sense now. That scar didn't have a pretty history. It made him wonder again what his Uncle Severus had given Potter as a reading list. Last night had given him no answers, and Potter was now asking  _ Draco _ of all people an academic question.

He was startled out of his musings by a disbelieving laugh from Potter.

"I guess it does sound like her."

He was grinning out over the lake, face lit up brighter than when he would catch the Snitch. He laughed again, "oh my god, he was wrong! The bastard could be wrong! Power of love, my arse!"

He turned his blinding grin to Draco, and for a second, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, from the intensity.

"Thank you." The words were heartfelt, and his eyes were glowing the same color as the fire in the Slytherin Common Room.

Draco arched an eyebrow. This would normally be where he would say something scathing about the Golden Boy thanking anyone, but it didn't feel right.

This year, Draco had wished to hide in the shadows, but it hadn't been an option. With his family in the thick of it, he knew more than most that Harry Potter was no liar. That didn't mean he knew anything of substance, however. If anything, it felt like Second Year all over again, knowing something was happening, but his father not trusting him enough to tell him more than that.

When he was twelve, Draco had believed his father when he said he didn't know anything else or that it was for the best if Draco didn't know anything. Now, however, Draco was older. He was watching from the shadows. 

He had seen Diggory's body, heard the agonized cries.

He had seen his father slip away shortly before.

He had seen his mother prepare with masks, false smiles, and early dismissals from the dinner table.

Most of all, he had seen his godfather, his Uncle Severus, withdraw farther than he had ever seen before.

Most people wouldn't have seen a thing, but Draco had grown up with Severus treating him more like a son than his own father did. He snapped more quickly, his blank mask was present more often, and Draco couldn't remember the last time he had seen the man at all three meals in the Great Hall.

Then again, the last time Potter had consistently had all three meals in the Great Hall was the first part of Third Year. Not that Draco would ever admit to knowing that.

The point being, Fifth Year was different.

He went along with Umbridge to keep out of suspicion and to appease his father. Every day he wrote letters to his mother about which students had new scars on their hands and what they said. Every night he left a list of names on Madam Pomfrey's desk. He never signed the note; he didn't want recognition. It would only paint a target on his back.

So he did his best to step back while also not ruining his reputation. And also trying to help people.

Maybe that was why it didn't feel right to insult Potter when he looked happier than he had in at least two years. Their rivalry had admittedly started because Draco hadn't been mature enough to accept rejection, but it had always excited him the most when they were head-to-head on the Quidditch Pitch.

Draco cocked his head to the right in thought.

He had been going there anyway…

"You're welcome," he finally replied, drinking in the smile that was aimed at him for the first time. "Want to play a Seeker's game?"

The words were out before he could think better of them.

Potter blinked in surprise before looking down at his study materials spread around him. He bit his lip, brow wrinkling in thought.

He looked back up at Draco to reply. "Tell you what, if you're still flying by the time I finish what I set out to do, sure."

Draco arched a brow, smirking. "And if you're still studying when midnight rolls around?"

Potter snorted. "Well, we'll have to do it another time then." He returned the smirk, and it looked warmer on his face than it ever could on Draco's. "I can't let you tell people I backed down from a challenge, now can I?"

Draco felt his lips curve into a genuine smile, and he nodded before turning and walking the rest of the way to the Pitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as far as I have written so far, so it will probably take a while for me to post chapter three, sorry! I also want to say a huge thank you to everyone who subscribed, there's 76 of you! That's crazy!!!
> 
> Thank you all so much <3
> 
> 'Til next time, onward!
> 
> P.S. can ya'll tell Draco is one of my favorites?


	3. Redemption Lies Plainly in Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is... a lot MORE than the rest, ngl
> 
> CW: There is a mention of self-harm scars, but only in passing.
> 
> Chapter title from the song Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

Hermione walked down the stairs to the dungeons, bag unheavy, a copy of each book on the list inside.

She hadn't lied to Harry, but she wasn't reading them all in the library today as he thought. Part of her felt bad, but at the same time, she couldn't help the assumptions others had about her behavior.

_ Besides _ , she reasoned, it was better that Harry didn't know about what she was doing until later.

Unfortunately, it was still something that needed to be done.

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door to Professor Snape's office.

~•~

Severus Snape was feeling regret.

It wasn’t an unusual emotion for him to feel, but the reason he was feeling regret was different from what it had been for the past decade, and so he was staring into his fireplace. He had tried to let go of and erase as many of his school-age memories as possible. It seemed better that way.

Now, however, he was having another layer of regret, because all of them were flooding back.

Lily was going to kill him as soon as he died. He knew that with certainty. He would accept it. He hadn’t done anything to honor her memory, he hadn’t even tried. And now her son was being manipulated by Albus Dumbledore and was stuck in what was obviously an abusive household. He felt himself shudder, remembering the memories he had skimmed through the night before, and took a swig of his hot tea. It didn’t erase the cold feeling inside of him.

He stood up and walked to a cabinet. He had to do something to honor his best friend. No one else had bothered, and he had to start somewhere. He flicked his wand once, vanishing the dust in his office silently. Another flick had all of the papers in the room stacked in a pile on his desk. The pile was a little tall for his liking, but he would sort it later. A swish and every jar with animal specimens were lined neatly against one wall. A tap against an armchair and the fabric changed from whatever indiscernible dark color it had been, to a vibrant green with gold thread detailing.

Books formed stacks against a different wall, one trying to bite him as it flew past. Maybe he should read some of those more often.

He paused, recognizing a certain stack of textbooks in their own pile, with worn covers. They were the Potions textbooks he had used in his schooling days. He sent that pile to a spot next to his sturdy oak desk.

The stone floor was… gross, to say the least. It hadn’t been cleaned since before the office was assigned to him, he was sure. He flicked his wand, and a piece of parchment tacked itself to the wall. A quill started writing a list.

  * Clean the floor
  * Go over old Potions notes
  * Write a paper or a textbook
  * Revise lesson plans
  * Redecorate



If he wanted to clean the floor, he would have to remove all of the furniture first. He was raised as a Muggle. He knew the best thing would be to scrub the floor with soap and water. Who knew what Potions ingredients were on the floor. Using magic to clean the floor could result in an explosion, at the worst. He pursed his lips, before adding to the list

  * Withdraw some money
  * Buy new clothes (not black)



As long as Sirius Black never saw the last item on the list, he could start to improve his life. And hopefully, he could improve Harry’s as well.

Snape took off his outer robe and slung it over the back of his chair. The chair might stay. He was somewhat attached to the horrible thing. He rolled up his sleeves to the elbow, not looking at his left arm. He didn’t want to see the black lines etched there, or the rough circle of scar tissue around it.

He pulled his hair up and out of his face, using a band of magic to secure it the way he had seen Lily do it hundreds of times before.

After Summoning a bucket of water, a rag, and a scrub brush, he turned his attention to the fireplace.

A quick Lumos Maxima lit up the entire room, allowing him to snuff the fire before vanishing the ashes and kneeling down to scrub the bricks.

Manual labor was like Potions. Mindless work that required just enough concentration to keep the bad thoughts and memories away. It would be a better coping mechanism if he ever talked about the things he tried to escape, he was well aware, but he could only tell Minerva so much, and he didn’t trust anyone else with the things he talked to her about. He didn’t want to ruin her image of Albus, as much as he resented the man.

Grey water pooled in the cement between the bricks of the fireplace. The stiff bristles of the brush had turned from natural brown to a dark mud color. He poured more water over the bricks, washing away what he could. A few bricks turned from brown to an indistinct red. Excess water ran across the floor. He could tell this was going to take a while, but it was Saturday and he had eaten breakfast and left the Great Hall before he saw more than ten students. It was doubtful that he would be interrupted.

As he worked, Severus thought about Lily.

The fact that they grew up in the same neighborhood wasn’t the only reason they had been friends once they went to Hogwarts.

She had a stubbornness and tenacity that rivaled that of Professor McGonagall. She was the only person who had a chance at rivaling him in Potions, and if it hadn’t been for her he never would’ve invented Wolfsbane. Granted, it was due to a sarcastic remark she made about him inventing a Potion to keep werewolves from hurting him if he was so scared, but it was what gave him a place in this world, so he would take it.

They had challenged each other intellectually, and not just in classes. Both of them made a habit of researching the things they were interested in, which resulted in many hours spent in the library, each of them explaining what they had learned to the other.

That challenge had kept him going through most of his time as a student.

Dumbledore thought he was in love with Lily. The idea was honestly laughable. He loved her, yes, but that was because she was his best friend. Of course he loved her. The reason he hated the attention that James gave her, was that she had told him it made her uncomfortable. He also didn’t want her to do anything stupid.

_ A memory of Sirius Black saying “I’m stupid, do me!” and Remus Lupin immediately walking out of the room in the middle of class. _

By the time they dated, Severus could see how happy James made her, and was happy for her.

The jealousy he had felt was based on the belief that James would replace Severus as Lily’s best friend. By the time he realized that wasn’t the case, he wasn’t on speaking terms with her anymore.

_ “I’m done! You can’t keep treating the people that care about you like this! All you do nowadays is spit back into the faces of those who care whenever they try to help! You were my best friend. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. Don’t talk to me until you learn how to treat other people with respect.” _

He funneled dirty water into a second bucket. He poured more clean water across the floor, seeing light grey flagstones for the first time. He hadn’t seen them during the whole time this office belonged to Slughorn.

It was a shame, the stones were a pale grey, and quite beautiful. They were flat, square, and had a regal quality to them.

He sat back on his heels to survey his work.

The fireplace was now visible as exposed brickwork. There was a swath of flagstones visible in the middle of the room, stretching from where the fireplace was. However, the two armchairs, the stacks of books, his desk, his chair, and the many many preserved specimens were preventing him from cleaning the entirety of the floor.

He also should probably clean the bookshelves before putting anything back on them.

His desk was a solid oak thing, but everything else could potentially be levitated as he cleaned the floor underneath it.

He frowned. Cleaning the bookshelves now would mean he could put some stuff on them, lowering the weight load of the levitation charm.

As he was pondering this decision, there was a knock on the door.

~•~

The door to Professor Snape’s office took longer to open than normal, Hermione noticed. Usually, it would open within a couple of seconds of anyone knocking, but she had been standing there for at least thirty seconds after knocking, and it still wasn’t opening.

She knew someone was in the office since there was the sound of a piece of furniture being dragged across the stone, but decidedly no movement on the door front.

She knocked again.

~•~

When Severus heard the knock on the door, he felt mild panic run through him. He cast a quick Tempus, and black letters spelled out the time in his handwriting. It was midafternoon, lunch would be starting soon. He hadn’t noticed the day slipping away while he scrubbed the stones of his office floor.

He banished the bucket of water, the rag, and the scrub brush to a corner of the room. He then grabbed the edge of his desk, bracing his body before dragging it across the floor to a spot on the clean stones before the fireplace.

The desk would also have to be cleaned, he decided, but he had taken care of it over the years so it wasn’t nearly as bad as the rest of the furniture.

He heard a second knock on the door.

Right. He had a visitor.

He moved his chair next to his desk with a flick of his wand, before turning and quickly opening the door to reveal an uncertain yet determined Hermione Granger.

_ Right. I was expecting this. _

He gestured with an arm for her to enter the room, before turning on his heel to pick up the nearest stack of books and put them on his desk.

~•~

To say that Hermione was surprised by what she saw when Professor Snape opened the door to his office would be an understatement.

She didn’t think she had ever seen him without his teaching robes on before, and here he was in black slacks, a black button-down, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Not only that, his hair was… in a ponytail?

It had never really occurred to her that his hair was shoulder-length until now.

She felt herself looking at his left forearm as she walked into the room, the door closing behind her. Right below the elbow, there was gauze wrapped around his arm. It showed no signs of blood, but she wasn’t expecting it to. As she studied it, the Professor picked up a tall stack of books from the floor and dropped them on his desk, which was on the other side of the room from where it normally stood. His right hand came up and absently scratched at the skin around the gauze seemingly without his notice.

The bookshelves that lined the walls were all empty, and their normal possessions were in piles and rows around the room, seemingly in categories. She could see the red bricks of the fireplace, no longer black from soot and God-knows-what else.

Snape turned around and leaned almost casually against the desk, one long leg crossing over the other, reminding her of a spider, or a marionette. He folded his arms and studied her face for a second before speaking.

“I presume you’re here to talk about Mr. Potter. However, before you ask any questions I would like to remind you that I will not divulge what I have seen in his Occlumency practice with anyone, friend, or foe.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She felt a cross between a smirk and a smile stretch across her lips. “Well, my first question was to implore you to respect his privacy, so I’d say we’re off to a relatively good start.” She let her eyes visibly skim over the piles of books and jars, and added, in a tone that suggested that it was an afterthought, “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Out of all possible responses, Hermione was not expecting the bitter professor to snort and roll his eyes in response. He unfolded his arms and legs, and stood up fully, turning to the new pile of books on his desk. It struck her again how thin and spindly he was, when not hidden beneath layers of flowing fabric that was manipulated as he moved to appear more ominous, she was sure.

“As long as we can have our discussion while I go through these books, it’ll be fine.” He frowned. “Has the Dewey Decimal System been updated, or is that a permanent code?”

Hermione blinked. “I don’t think it can change.” She blinked again, “wizards know about the Dewey Decimal System? Why isn’t the Library organized that way? It would be so much easier for students to find relevant books that way instead of searching around hoping that they can find the right section!”

“Switching over would mean that the lovely Madame Pince would have to admit that a certain aggressive redhead that she saw as a menace to the Library was right, and she’ll never do that because of the violence she technically perpetrated within its sacred walls.” He looked up, and Hermione was surprised to see humor and sadness in the usually cold and cruel eyes.

“That certain redhead would be Lily Jacqueline Evans. She probably gave Potter and Black brain damage.”

“You knew her.” One thing Hermione had learned in her time at Hogwarts was how to prompt people to talk. Some people needed many questions. Others needed silence more than anything else. It was hard for her to watch from the shadows. After all, there was no way to prove yourself capable if no one even saw you. But she had started to manage it in Third Year when she had the Time-Turner.

Looking back, it was irresponsible for anyone to have given that to her, and she had her suspicions that Dumbledore had planned Sirius Black’s escape using the device months in advance. That being said, it had helped her in the long run.

She had also seen the way Professor Lupin was able to get people to talk, in that quiet way of his. If anyone asked, she would probably deny it, but emulating him was something she felt herself doing often.

“Lily Evans was my best friend until we were fifteen,” there was a seriousness that Hermione had never seen in her antagonistic Professor, even when giving lectures about the most dangerous of Potions.

“I realize that your friend is desperate to hear anything he possibly can about his family, but for years I have buried my memories of her. I was not about to dredge them up for someone I had been convinced to see in the way I saw Mr. Potter.”

Hermione raised a challenging eyebrow. She knew when to step back and feign obedience, but she also knew when to call people out and to push.

“And how was it you saw him?”

“The way Dumbledore wanted me to.”

Hermione smiled. It seemed the Professor was going to be helpful after all.

~•~

“The way Dumbledore wanted me to.”

Severus recognized the potential violence in Hermione Granger’s smile. He knew she was smart, and she had to be somewhat ruthless to survive along with someone with luck as terrible as Harry Potter’s, but this was the first time he saw a craving for blood in her.

When he started on this path of helping the Potter boy, of helping Lily’s son, of helping Harry, he knew he would have to deal with the boy’s friends. He didn’t expect that he would want to stand behind them. He hadn’t seen a sword being raised behind someone’s eyes since Lily was alive. Harry may be her actual son, but her fire lived on in Hermione Granger as if she were her kin.

“Good.” Her verbal reply was simple, but the way her shoulders settled more firmly square, and the slight but stubborn lift of her chin spoke volumes. He had known she wouldn’t trust him, but it was comforting to see that Harry Potter had allies that would back him and keep him safe personally and emotionally, not just physically.

She continued, “I haven’t read through all of the books on the list yet, but by next week I will be finished with them and have questions about them. In the meantime, I can help you with your library if you teach me the charm on the reading list you gave him, and tell me what you know about the legal system.”

Potter’s words from the day before came back to him:  _ “They aren’t the only Gryffindors who the Hat said would do well in your house. None of them would ever admit it, of course, but that doesn’t mean the Hat forgot.” _

_ Time to test how strong House loyalty is, _ he mused.

“That is a very Slytherin way to go about seeking information.”

“Slytherins are often flattered when others deal in information the same way that they do. It makes them feel like they’ve had a positive influence.”

“Coming to that conclusion and using it to your advantage is also very Slytherin.”

“Using logic to manipulate others isn’t a purely Slytherin trait. You might be surprised by what the Ravenclaws get up to. If there was a gossip rag like the Daily Prophet within Hogwarts, the authors would be a mix of both Slytherin and Ravenclaw students, with the sports segment most likely written by a Gryffindor or Slytherin and announcements about events as well as yearbook type duties performed by the Hufflepuffs. The stereotyped traits of the Houses are shared by everyone, what House you end up in has more to do with your values than your characteristics.

“Look at Neville, for example. He is afraid of heights and confrontation, but he believes that he needs to stand up for what is right no matter what. It’s his belief in justice and the pursuit of justice no matter how afraid one is that makes him a Gryffindor. Fred and George belong in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, speaking practically, but their need for a family more than anything else puts them in Gryffindor. Harry would be an excellent fit in Slytherin, but he is also the bravest person I know and has now lost his sense of self-preservation. Ron could fit in with Ravenclaw or Slytherin with his skill in chess; he’s beaten the whole of Gryffindor Tower so many times that only Harry will play against him anymore, which gives him a gift for strategy that makes Dumbledore look average. I had the option to go to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. I chose Gryffindor because bravery and stubbornness have seen me through more than pure knowledge with nothing to back it up ever could.”

Severus was honestly surprised that she had spent this much time thinking about the House system. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, especially after Potter’s words about the Sorting Hat the night before, but he couldn’t help it.

The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor had been around since before he was born. To have two students in one year questioning the system itself while the rivalry was bordering on war was destabilizing, to say the least. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t inspiring, it just wasn’t what he was expecting on any level.

He supposed the most shocking part was the fact that both of them were known as the poster children of Gryffindor. It seemed he hadn’t seen all of their secrets just yet.

He knew how important secrets were to those in the public eye. They valued secrets more than most, even considering the impending war.

“That’s an admirable point of view. I find it surprising considering the current climate. Especially since your House is one of two embroiled in a centuries-old conflict.” Severus wondered when he had decided honesty was the path he was going to take. 

Granger’s eyebrows shot up.  _ Right. No one is used to compliments from me. _ He could almost see Lily laughing at him from the afterlife. He had gotten himself into this situation. He might be able to get himself out of it.

“I may seem firmly on a single side of the conflict, but that has more to do with politics than anything else.” He let the fingers of his right hand run across the gauze covering the horrid brand on his arm. Granger’s eyes tracked the movement more subtly than he expected they would. “Few people know much about me because that is what keeps me safe. However, since I believe we will be working together, I find it relevant to be more open, starting with this fact.”

He whirled back to his desk, and grabbed one of his old textbooks, speaking as he opened it.

“Potter may have mentioned that I told him that his mother and I were best friends once upon a time. This is true. The reason we first became friends is that we were neighbors.” He turned, and showed her the inside cover of a Transfiguration book from his Third Year, notes about the link between chemistry and the subject in both his and Lily’s handwriting alongside the clear printing of ‘Property of the Half-Blood Prince.’ The nickname wasn’t his finest moment, but it was based on fact.

“My mother was Eileen Prince. I thought the nickname was quite clever when I was a child.” He could practically see Granger putting a puzzle together in the air with her eyes, putting everything together as she studied the page.

When she asked her first question, it was not the one he expected. What he expected was interrogation about why he would ever become a Death Eater. Why he treated Gryffindors the way he did. Why he wasn’t a better teacher. Why he never published any of his theories.

That wasn’t what he got. The why questions he could stomach. He could put some of them down to naïvete, after all.

What he got hurt so much more, simply because of how damn selfless it was.

“Do you have anything else, that isn’t yours, obviously, that has her writing in it? Harry never got anything from her. Only stuff from his father.” Her gaze was calculating, as if knowing that the question would hurt, and that just made it worse, didn’t it, because he had given her so many reasons to want him to hurt.

He took a deep breath.

“I might.” He disliked that there was a tinge of sadness in his voice. “I will have to check as I go through everything.”

She just nodded as if everything was normal. Simply moved on, easy as that.

“I always wondered why wizards never used atomic theory to make magic easier. It’s what makes Transfiguration so easy for me. If you think about it as altering the number of protons and electrons in the sample, it’s so much easier to turn a match into a needle.”

She was changing the subject to make this wildly odd conversation less awkward. Lily was right. Wonders never did cease.

“I have several notebooks combining chemistry and other Muggle sciences with Potions, Lily was the one who focused on Transfiguration and Charms. She was going to publish her findings, but then the war broke out.”

_ “Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, Sev. That’s just how life is.” _

“I could try to find the copies she sent to me and pass them on to you and Potter. It would be a shame if no one ever got them published.”

She smiled for the first time in his presence.  _ I really need to become a better professor. _

“That’s a wonderful idea. It also reminds me,” she pulled a sheaf of paper from her bag, and flipped through the pages, finally settling on a list. “Let’s start with this one. Are there libel laws in the wizarding world that everyone just ignores and pretends don't exist, or is that legislation I need to figure out how to get passed by manipulating politicians?”

“They exist, but to a lesser degree than in the Muggle world. No one bothered to go back and update them because everyone forgot they exist.”

She nodded, and pulled a pen out of her bag, and added a note to what he could now tell was a list.

“I would appreciate you teaching me the charm you used on Harry’s reading list, but as I have other questions, it would probably be best if you just directed me to a book I could find it in.”

He nodded and moved to the corner of the room where he had stashed the bucket and cloth.

“Do you know the best way to get a trustworthy lawyer, or does that not exist?”

“Doesn’t exist, but Lucius Malfoy is surprisingly law-abiding if you get over his blatant racism.”

He moved to the bookshelves and began cleaning each shelf of the dust, grime, and spilled substances of decades.

He heard a light laugh from behind him. “I mean that would be pretty funny. Have one of Voldemort’s staunchest supporters be the legal face of Harry Potter.”

_ Fucking Gryffindors. _

“I do see the irony, however, it’s the safety aspect that concerns me.”

“I know Gringotts exists as separate from the wizarding world since it is a part of the Goblin Nation, but would it be possible to get a goblin to be legal representation?”

**_Fucking Gryffindors._ **

“Goblins only get involved if they feel as though they have been personally wronged.”

He could almost hear her grin in her next words. “So if someone stole from the goblin nation they would get involved.”

“Obviously.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t they see the Founder’s Artifacts as belonging to their nation?”

He didn’t like where this was going. “Yes, they do.” Not that there was a need for him to confirm that. Anyone who paid attention knew that.

“Well, I doubt they would feel great about the fact that Harry pulled the sword of Godric Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat when he was twelve and it was taken from him before he could return it.”

Severus turned and looked at her. She looked triumphant. “Go on.”

“Well if we want to do anything against one Albus Dumbledore, it would be wise to have powerful allies.”

“You want to sue Dumbledore.”

“You’re getting the idea now.”

“That’s fair.”

“Do you think it would work?”

“Only for that piece of the case I assume you’re building against him.”

She gave a decisive nod, turning back her paper. Severus turned back to his shelves.

“Um,” she sounded guilty. This can’t be good. “Do you remember during my first year here, when Harry nearly died during that Quidditch match?”

He exhaled. “Yes.”

“Thank you for saving him. It took me a while to figure out that Quirrell was the one who was cursing him, and you were saying the countercurse. I, um, I’m the one who lit you on fire.”

_ I do not get paid enough. _ “I’ve never seen blue fire like that before.”

“That’s because I came up with the spell.”

Severus slowly turned around. Hermione Granger was studying the grain of his desk, somehow looking supremely guilty and utterly unrepentant at the same time. “You were eleven.”

“Yup.”

“That’s unheard of.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You’re worse than Lily when it comes to achieving in a way that breaks rules, and I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed since it is my responsibility to keep students from breaking rules in the first place.”

Her head shot up. He should have expected that reaction.

He put out a flat hand. “I do not condone you breaking the rules, but if you are going to do it, at least have the decency to not get caught.”

“It’s a good thing that most of what we’ve done no one knows about then.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“If it was in the second year can we still get in trouble for it?”

“I’ll humor you and not take points.”

“I brewed Polyjuice Potion in the girl’s bathroom.”

“Successfully?”  _ I need a raise. I need a raise. I need a raise. I need a rai- _

“Yes.”

“I need a raise.”

“Not to be that person, but I feel like your teaching methods leave little room for the deservedness of a raise.”

“You’re lucky I’m feeling kind.”

“Oh, I know.” Granger pulled a textbook out of her bag.  _ An undetectable extension charm. What else has this girl achieved that no one knows about? _

Severus turned back to cleaning the bookshelf.

“Harry always cleans things without magic.” He had not expected that after everything he had seen in the boy’s memories. “He says it feels cleaner that way. I think he does it because when he’s here it’s optional.”

There wasn’t anything he could say to that. The scars across his back were testimony enough, even though he had never let them speak.

“How does the bond between wizards and House Elves work?”

“It’s symbiotic. The Elves gain magic from the wizard or family that they are bonded to. It prevents them from getting sick and speeds healing when they are injured.”

“Is that why they fear being unbound?”

“Yes. It’s also why some stay in abusive bonds. There are also the same factors as people in abusive relationships.”

The scratch of her pen was the only other sound separate from his scrubbing of the shelves.

“Why don’t wizards use pens?”

“Aesthetic and stubbornness, probably,” he both felt and heard his scorn seeping through in his voice.

“So if they discovered fancy fountain pens they might convert?”

“Maybe, as long as you passed it off as super high class.”

“I really hate wizarding society sometimes.”

“Most people do, my generation couldn’t do anything about it because we all died or were locked up.”

“So you’re saying everyone collectively gave up and left it for the children.”

“The previous generation did it to us, too. I never said it was a good thing.”

“That’s why everyone hates change, probably.”

“Because no one tried to achieve it?”

“Yes. No one is accustomed to it anymore.”

“I can see that.”

He heard her ruffling through pages.

“I just don’t see why you never published your own textbooks. Do you know how revolutionary it would be to have magic combined with Muggle science? That would cause so many breakthroughs, especially in the medical field.”

_ “If we published this in conjunction with each other, we could change the way everything is taught! We could change magic itself!” _

_ “You know I want to, Lily. Who would publish it, though?” _

_ “Don’t be ridiculous, Sev. We could self-publish if it comes to that, but we have the best grades in the school. It would be embarrassing for them not to.” _

“You could change the world with this. You could change _ magic itself _ . No one has even attempted it before.”

“I haven’t looked at any of it since she died.”

He could  _ feel _ the silence.

“That makes sense. Would she want you to publish it?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it. Change the world.”

“A Death Eater publishing Muggle science.”

“Then wait until we change the world first. Stand by us. Help us, and we’ll help you. Harry would want to publish his mother’s work. Wait until that happens. Then publish yours.”

“I thought you said the Weasley boy was the one who had a gift for strategy.”

“He is. I’m the one with the sturdy grasp of common sense.”

He turned. She was right. This fifteen-year-old girl was smarter than he was, and she was right.

He held out his right hand.

“It’s a deal.”


End file.
